


Promise me...

by VulpesVulpes713



Series: A Collection of Klance [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comforting, Crying, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post Season 4, Voltron, and a heart to heart, klance, klangst, lance's jacket, vld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 12:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13458069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: The post season 4 comforting we need.





	Promise me...

When Lance finds out about what Keith almost did, he doesn’t make a scene of it.

 

He doesn’t yell, or cry, or tease, or joke.

 

He remains quiet as Matt tells them what went down, and then, instead of sharing in the worried exchanges of his teammates, Lance leaves.

 

He doesn’t stop when Shiro calls out, or when Allura questions his motives, or even when Hunk gives him that look.

 

He keeps going, right through the doors and down the hallway, knowing, somehow, exactly where to find the former Red paladin.

 

His guess is right on, and as Lance walks purposefully into Keith’s room, he finds the boy huddled in the corner of his bed, head on his knees and a dark cloud of gloom hanging heavy in the air.

 

Keith looks up at him in confusion, so exhausted that the bags beneath his eyes may as well be a permanent feature, and a brief moment of silence is shared between them.

 

“What are you-” Keith begins, but Lance stops him. He doesn’t mean to, but the boy trails off as Lance approaches the bed, sitting on the edge and staring down at his hands. He feels Keith’s gaze on him; knows the shade of indigo he would see should he meet those eyes, but he doesn’t. 

 

_Can’t._

 

So instead he breaths in deeply, and takes off his jacket.

 

He knows Keith is staring, likely outright  _gaping_  in disbelief, but no words are said, and as Lance withdraws his arms from the sleeves and folds the article of clothing neatly in his lap, Keith’s bafflement wins, and the silence breaks.

 

“Lance, what-”

 

“Here.”

 

Lance doesn’t look over, but he holds his arm out, offering the folded jacket in the direction Keith is sitting. He holds it out until his arm hurts, and when it becomes apparent that Keith has no intention of taking it, he exhales through his nose, and finally lifts his head.

 

“You know,” he starts, and Keith’s eyes jerk up to his face. Lance forces himself to swallow; the array of emotions he’s feeling in the present moment all competing for first place, but he manages, somehow, to keep his voice steady. “My brother gave me this jacket when I went off to the Garrison. It had belonged to him, and I remember when he first got it how much I kept threatening to steal it one day. ‘If it ever goes missing don’t blame me,’ I would say, and he would laugh…ruffle my hair and call me a twerp or something dumb.” Lance feels the corners of his mouth tilt upward at the memory, but it’s a fleeting moment, and he pulls the jacket back into his lap and lets his hands run over the front fondly. “I wasn’t expecting it, the day he gave it to me. We were all standing outside the front of the school, saying our last goodbyes and whatnot. Mom was crying, but that was normal. She was always the more emotional one of us.”

 

Lance almost expects Keith to say something about that, but oddly enough the boy remains quiet, fully absorbed in Lance’s story.

 

“We’re all hugging, and my brother sort of pulls me aside, and he takes off his jacket,  _this_  jacket,” he shakes the clothing for emphasis, even though it’s unnecessary, “and he hands it to me. ‘I’m giving this to you to keep safe for now,’ he said. ‘Consider it a loan; an insurance policy.’” 

 

Lance can feel tears begin to bubble in his ducts, but he forges on, intent now on finishing, no matter how painful the memory. 

 

“I remember being confused, not really knowing what he meant, until he explained. ‘I want that back, when you’re finished school. And I want you to give it to me then, so I can say I own a jacket worn by a Garrison Space Academy graduate student.’ It was stupid, and I told him so. But he shook his head, ignoring my teasing. ‘And when you’re sent off on your first mission into space, I’ll give it back to you, so that when you come home again, I can say I own the jacket of a brave astronaut who traveled the galaxy. But you have to promise to bring it back. Because this is not your jacket…it’s mine. Promise me you’ll bring it back.’“

 

Hot liquid spilled down over Lance’s cheeks, and he let out a broken half-sob, merging it with a laugh as he wiped away the tears. 

 

“I promised him, and we hugged, and I wore the jacket as they all drove away, not thinking much of the sentiment behind it. I just thought my brother was being a jerk and reminding me that no matter what the jacket was still his. Like a threat not to ruin it or something. I had no idea what he had really meant until I found myself a universe away fighting in a war I had no idea existed.” 

 

He was quiet for a long moment, but finally the words tumbled from his mouth; mumbled and hesitant as they were.

 

“Him giving me his jacket was his way of making me promise to be safe; to do everything in my power to make it back home in one piece. He knew better than I did at the time what the Garrison was all about…how dangerous the missions could be. This was his way of ensuring I had something worth coming back for; a reason, if you will. Something to keep me going when times were tough.” 

 

Lance couldn’t name all the moments he had spent curled up in his brothers jacket, softly crying himself to sleep from homesickness or stress. That number had been quadrupled since coming to space, but the words of his sibling always kept him motivated to go on. 

 

_And now he probably thinks I’m dead. If only I could let them know I’m not…_

 

Lance sniffed then, straightening his shoulders and taking a deep, calming breath before turning to look back at Keith. Indigo was now ringed with red, and Keith’s lower lip was tucked firmly between his teeth; a habit Lance had noticed the boy used to ward off crying. 

 

_It’s why his lips are always so chapped._

 

But he made no such comment on the matter, and instead held out the jacket again, holding Keith’s gaze as he smiled.

 

“Take it,” he said, and when Keith remained frozen in place, Lance scooted closer, placing the jacket on top of Keith’s hands and forcing him to grab onto it. “Take it,” he repeated, “for now anyway. And bring it back to me after each mission. Bring it back so I can say my brother owns the jacket of a great warrior, who fights to protect the powerless. Someone who’s selfless to a fault and braver than anyone he’s ever met. Wear it and bring it back so I can tell my brother one of the greatest Paladins of Voltron wore it, and that he owns the jacket of a hero.” 

 

Keith makes a startled sound that comes out as a choked laugh, and the tears streaming down his face are a stark contrast to the growing smile that lifts his expression. But his hands curl around the fabric of the jacket, and Lance can’t ignore the subtle leap his heart takes at the sight.

 

He’s about to get up and leave when Keith speaks, and he’s so taken aback by the words spoken that he hardly registers them at first. 

 

“He already does.”

 

In fact, it takes Lance a good five seconds of openly staring following Keith’s remark for him to be able to formulate a proper response, and even then all he can manage are a few stuttered words strung together in a make-shift sentence.

 

“I-he…I mean-” 

 

_They’ll write poems about my eloquence,_ he thinks, but can’t bring himself to tease even himself. Because Keith just complimented him, right? That was what that was? 

 

And for once Lance is speechless.

 

Keith saves him from his floundering by abruptly moving forward, seizing Lance’s shoulders and pulling him in for a tight hug.

 

They’re both too stiff and tense for it to be comfortable, but Lance wouldn’t go so far as to describe it as awkward. If anything, being hugged by Keith is exactly how he’s always imagined it: fierce, sudden, unexpected…but soft, somehow, at the same time. Warm even. 

 

It takes him a moment to process what’s going on, but as the gentle heat of Keith’s embrace rushes to fill the ice in Lance’s chest, he melts, and feels his resolve break.

 

Somehow his own arms find their way around Keith’s shoulders, and both boys cling to each other with a direness that shouldn’t be needed for the current situation, but that doesn’t stop them. 

 

Too much has happened for them to withhold anymore, and as the emotional floodgates burst open, and Lance’s tears soak through the material of Keith’s shirt, the hug deepens, until they find themselves both kneeling on the bed; arms unyielding as they cry into each others shoulders. 

 

Time goes on, but neither keep track, and when they finally break apart, it’s in stages, with Lance lifting his head and keeping his gaze on the bed, embarrassed, funnily enough, to have broken down in such an undignified manner. But Keith doesn’t judge, and when he feels a finger push his chin upwards, he’s met with a dazzling pair of indigo eyes; glistening and framed by wet lashes, but crinkled in the corners as Keith smiles.

 

“I’ll make sure to bring it back,” he whispers, and Lance is overcome with bittersweet emotion. He’s grateful for Keith’s words, but knows what they entail. That the danger is far from over, and peace is still a long way off. But he smiles back, even when the tears begin anew, since Keith doesn’t seem to mind, and Lance would be lying if he said he didn’t care for the way the former Red paladin brushes his thumb over his cheekbones to wipe away the wetness. 

 

“You promise?” he asks softly, hesitantly, and Keith nods, cupping Lance’s face with both hands.

 

“Yeah,” his voice is barely audible, but Lance hears the echo of his words so clearly Keith may as well have shouted them. “I promise.”

 

“Good,” he makes himself say, lest he drown in the depths of Keith’s eyes and be whisked away with how close they are. It’s too close, and yet, not hardly close enough. Though the distance between them is closing, there’s still a gap that Lance wishes he could cross in one single leap. But he needs Keith to catch him on the other side, and for that to happen, they need time. If only there was more of it in space. 

 

But Lance shoves aside the remorse and self-pity, and sets his jaw with determination as he goes on.

 

“We can give it back to my brother together, okay?”

 

And when Keith chuckles, it’s a sad sound; an unknowing sound. But Lance understands why…the future is uncertain, especially in times of war, and Keith isn’t one to make promises he has no intention of keeping.

 

At least, that’s the impression he gives off, and Lance fully intends on making him keep his word about the jacket.

 

_No more sacrificing yourself for us. We need you._

 

_I…I need you._

 

He doesn’t expect Keith to reply to him; knows that he’s asking too much. But the boy surprises him once again by pulling him in close for another hug, the jacket pressed firm between them as he whispers his vow in Lance’s ear.

 

“We’ll bring it back to him together then,” he says, and hearing such a thing spoken out loud is enough to have Lance breaking down all over again, and he falls forward into Keith, who doesn’t let him down.

 

Who’s  _never_  let him down. Not once. Not really. 

 

And when he cries he does so without shame, feeling safe for once in a very long time within the circle of Keith’s arms. Even in the silence following his tears, Lance is comforted, and together they sit on Keith’s bed; the embrace never breaking. 

 

When the rest of the team finally finds them, it’s with hushed voices and stolen stares. Lance, fast asleep on a snoring Keith’s chest, arms and legs tangled together like a rope that has no business being so knotted. 

 

They leave them like that, if only for a few minutes longer, and don’t bother covering them with a blanket.

 

There’s no need, for a green cargo jacket lays over their chests, large enough to cover them both comfortably, and warm enough to keep them cozy in the slight chill of the castle. 

 

The other’s see only a jacket as the door closes behind them, but it’s so much more than that. 

 

A loan.

 

An insurance policy.

 

A issuance of safety.

 

But more than all those things, the jacket keeping the chill off the two boys cradled in each others arms acts as a bonding agent; a gift given to comrades and friends and the ones held close to the heart.

 

It’s a promise; one made to be kept.

 

And as red and blue merge into purple coloured dreams, that promise is solidified, with both boys resolved to stay true to their word, and return the jacket safely back to their own definitions of home.

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr](https://vulpes--vulpes.tumblr.com)


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